


Missing Moment: The Fox's Lair.

by MyBeautifulDecay



Category: Outlander (TV), Outlander Series - Diana Gabaldon
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-06-17
Updated: 2016-06-17
Packaged: 2018-07-15 15:41:42
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,660
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7228615
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MyBeautifulDecay/pseuds/MyBeautifulDecay
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Complete with alternate ending, Claire and Jamie continue their intimate encounter in the Laird's room only to lead onto something more...</p>
            </blockquote>





	Missing Moment: The Fox's Lair.

She lay back feeling the soft caress of the silken sheets through her shift, his fingers began a merry dance against the smooth skin of her thighs and her legs parted wider to allow him access. In contrast she could feel the loose edges of his kilt against the fine hair at the top of her knees, the course fabric a pleasant tickling on her sensitive flesh. Neither of them spoke as he touched her, cherished her, moved the tips of his fingers deftly over her. She arched, her feet stretching and curling against the side of the bed as she, as quietly as she could, begged him with every inch of her.

He gazed down at her as she squirmed beneath him, her hair fanned out across the sheets in a glorious riot of curls, her cheeks alight with a faint pinkish glow. His bonnie Sassenach Angel, flushed with pleasure, begging him to take her. He whispered to her in Gaelic; how beautiful she was, how much he loved her, how he prayed Charles Stuart could pull this off so that they may finally live in peace once more. He spoke to her in hushed murmurs as he mapped patterns against her exposed skin. He pushed her shift further up with each movement exposing her to the waist and then admiring the milky white skin laid out before him.

Her hips writhed as she licked her lips and almost soundlessly implored him to take her. Her knees lay flat now, pressed deep into the coverlet as she opened her eyes a little to see what was taking him so long. Tears shone in his eyes as he dreamily watched over her. She could see him itching to touch the apex between her thighs. Along with love she saw the sheer want glowing there in his ocean deep eyes. She felt all of the blood rush to her centre, she was almost pulsing with need.

He reached, with one hand, to undo the buckle of his belt and she shook her head infinitesimally. “No. No, don’t.” She beseeched, her usually light voice deep and needy. Her hand reached up to grasp at his as she pulled herself towards him. He bent down, catching her lips against his as they locked together. Her hands tangled in his loose, shorter curls. He looked just like the boy she’d first met on that fateful hill, the tight curls now wound shorter just bobbing against his ears. “I want you to keep it on, please Jamie. I want to feel it against me as you love me.”

They fell forward, a mess of limbs as she kissed him thoroughly. His lips were sore from her wee nips, but he found himself rocking his hips dangerously close to hers with the pleasure it zapped down his spine. His whole body was alive with the power of it. Her dainty hands fiddled about pulling the thick material out of the way as he levered himself over her properly. In an instant he was inside her, her pull being too much to resist once he was free of his plaid. Her whole being was warm and comforting and he moved slowly against her, determined to show her with his body how much he adored her, loved her, needed her.

The short wiry hairs that grew along the top of his thighs brushed against the soft skin of hers sending shock static down the length of her legs. Her toes twitched at the sensation, her muscles becoming taut before they loosened, at one with his movements. Part of her felt the loss of his belly lying pressed against hers, the softer hairs there working in time with the others in tickling her in the most divine ways. But watching him through hooded lids, in his kilt, his arse moving fluidly and rhythmically above her, the tartan scrunched around him, she couldn’t feel too much regret.

He looked truly the warrior, but he worshipped her as if she were a queen. So reverent and slow, as if she were the most precious pearl. A truly complex but beautiful contradiction wrapped up in a man. Her sighs of pleasure morphed as he twisted his hips, the bones of them digging into hers as they pelvis’ met. She started to ache and throb, a shallow feeling of exquisite bliss unfolding from where they joined and rolling like waves on a shore down to her toes and back up again. Each flow getting stronger and stronger with each passing minute.

Her hands gripped at his bottom now, groping and tugging at the folds of fabric, trying her very best to hold him inside her as she muffled her cries of ecstasy against his tongue. The vibrations of this combined with her clenched around him caused him to tense and fall with her, the blackness encroaching in on both of them as they trembled against one another. It seemed to last for an age, the tightening of both of their bodies before slackening ever so slightly and then springing back once more. Jamie panted, his bare chest quivering with the effort of holding himself up as Claire shook in his arms.

Bleary eyed, they both watched the other, their mouths turned up in a slight grin at the sex-scented beauty of the other, both lost in a haze of lust and love. The air seemed to spark around them still, throwing bursts of light against the fading tapestries of the Laird’s bedroom.

–

Finally they managed to roll onto their sides and pull themselves under the thick duvet. Curling against one another they joined hands and brushed the tips of their noses together, barely able to speak just simply breathing each other in. The fire dimmed and petered out as the night wore on and the lovers slept on and off, both waking at various periods just to look at the other. The red stain of blush on both of their cheeks stayed well into the dawn, their swollen mouths coming within inches of each other as they dreamt. Her dreams tinged with green and blue, lochs and glens. And of red, a bright vibrant thing that seemed to glow in her heart and lighten her spirit. His; a whisky caramel tinged with warm, muddy brown. The kind that feels warm, like home.

“Jamie.”

“Claire.”

They both whispered into the dim glow of sun-up before their lips met once more, sloppy wet kisses that tasted of sleep. He loved her again, then. She rolled on top of him, her shift sliding off her shoulders as she did so, her rhythm languid as she rocked against him.

They didn’t move from their bed all day, choosing not to face the household only to be as one for as long as possible. The scent of sex hung heavily in the air by the time the sun set, the fire completely vanquished as they’d no time to stoke or refuel it. They weren’t in need of the heat anyway, the constant coupling of their bodies giving them enough warmth to fill the entire estate. They lounged in the bliss of the other, slaking their thirst as often as was humanly possibly, drowning in the other until they were both truly exhausted. As twilight descended on them once more they yawned and burrowed closer under the blankets, snuffling and shifting until they were connected from head to toe. Claire’s heart slowed to almost nothing, as did Jamie’s, as they gave themselves over to sleep once more. All troubles soothed away by twenty-four hours of pure unadulterated intimacy.

–

The weeks passed and life in Broch Tuarach ran as it always had, there was the overhanging threat of the Jacobite uprising but there had been a silent pledge between the household that it was not to be spoken of. Mrs Crook fixed meals with the aid of Claire and Jenny whilst the men kept watch on the potato harvest. Wee Fergus settled to a routine of chores along with Rabbie and even Wee Jamie.

It wasn’t until a month or so later that Claire began to feel sick. She tried her best to hide it, worrying that she’d caught a sickness that would afear Jamie. She ate as best she could, but most meals, she found, wouldn’t sit right. She threw up at all hours most things. She hadn’t noticed what Jamie had. The slight hardening of her belly, the fullness of her breasts, the wider set of her hips. She couldn’t bring herself to contemplate it, really. But he knew. Jamie knew very well what Claire was too scared to admit.

It was into the sixth week when he finally sat her down, a stern husbandly look in his eye as he told her firmly, “yer wi’ child, Claire, did ye no’ think?” She had, she thought, but what could that mean for them now?

“Oh, Jamie!” She sighed, all of the air leaving her lungs as she did so. “I-I…this is what I want, so much. How can we make this alright?” The dark cloud of Culloden and the Bonnie Prince exploded around them as Claire unleashed her fears upon Jamie. He sat and listened as she sobbed and clung to him, desperate to impress upon him the need for them to be together for this moment. Part of her remembered the promise she’d made in Paris, a promise she’d strongly intended to keep only based on the fact that she never saw it coming to light. But there was nothing for that now.

“A gràidh, a miracle. A wee bairn.” His tone was laced with disbelieve. Now of all times, to be blessed with such a gift. He kissed Claire and left with a look that screamed ‘I will do right by you, I promise’. He left Lallybroch and walked for miles, walking until the soles of his feet protested and when they flat out refused to continue, he sat on a rock in the middle of the woods and thought. He thought of 1948 and Frank, of how much better that place would be for her. He thought of the upcoming war and whether they’d done enough to stymy it, whether they’d managed to extinguish it completely but he couldn’t help but think this was just the beginning.

He’d almost made up his mind when he saw it, a buck standing grazing in front of his eyes. A brilliant white thing that seemed to glow in the dense woods that surrounded them. He lifted his massive head and looked Jamie straight in the eye, the deep brown centres fading to light blue at the edges of the iris seeming to burn deep into his soul. A silver slither ran down the underside of each antler, causing them to shine and shimmer in the pale shafts of light that burst through the tree canopy above. The buck blinked slowly, taking only a little interest in the man stood before him. He snorted, his head shaking from side to side and ruffling his thick fur as he did so.

“She canna be safe if she stays.” He muttered, as if the deer had pulled the words from him. “I canna protect her here.” The buck dipped his head, as if nodding. Jamie stared back, aghast. He rubbed his eyes and looked back. The deer was still there, no dream then. He took one final bow, his front legs bending ever so slightly before he turned and slowly walked away into the dense undergrowth. Jamie blinked quickly, alone now once more, and he kent with certainty what he had to do.

–

They set sail for the Americas before winter hit, Claire had begun to show now and had gotten over her sickness. The estate had been entrusted to wee Jamie and the men of his clan held accountable under the tiny one’s hand as laird. He prayed them be safe, but he had one and only one goal, his family’s safety.

He’d returned to Claire after his wee jaunt, his eyes bright with courage. He told her she’d been right before so long ago when she’d bid him run with her to the new world. He was no coward, but neither was he daft. Whatever the outcome of the rising, he had something worth fighting for more than a free Scotland.

Murtagh and Fergus had accompanied them, desperate not to be left behind. Claire had fretted, of course. She’d suggested America because she had not wanted to return to a time without him, but now as she watched him sacrifice his birthright, his home, his sister and his country, she felt very much a snake in the grass. She was tearing him from the very soul of himself. He smiled, a faint hum of sadness hidden deep, and washed away her fears. He didn’t tell her of the stag in the shadows, but he impressed upon her the certainty of his decision. She was his home, anything else was a mere puddle, an insignificant drop of rain in a large loch. Together they were impenetrable, he kent it well and she saw the fire in him ignite as he assuaged her fears.

The boat ride wasn’t pleasant or easy, but they made it safely across. The fears of war slowly washing away with the current of the Atlantic Ocean beneath them.

–

As the fierce clash of Culloden rained down upon the battle-worn Highlanders in Scotland, the Frasers welcomed their wee bundle into the world. She came quickly, a whole month early, in the spring heat that covered the whole of Carolina like a fine mist. The painful memories of Faith lingered as Claire prayed her way through the birth. Jamie refused to leave her side, the rosary that Jenny had bestowed upon them clenched tightly between their joined fingers as they rode it out, as one.

Brianna Ellen Fraser was the tiniest thing Jamie had ever laid eyes upon. Fine sprigs of ginger locks sprouted from her delicate pink skull. Long, thick lashes lined her closed eyes. She was perfect.

It took them over a month to receive word from Jenny and Ian about the slaughter that had battered their proud nation. Jamie and Murtagh raised their tiny flag at the side of the house Jocasta had loaned them whilst they settled. Claire had wept silently for all those lost, for the people she’d wanted so badly to save, and then she curled herself around wee Bree and cried with joy at her fortune, finally. Fergus watched from the sidelines, thanking God that the mistress and her Laird had managed to find themselves safe at last and that Brianna had instigated the entire thing without even knowing it. He doted on her night and day, matching Jamie’s Gaelic tales with French one’s of his own.

–

It wasn’t long before Brianna was joined by William Alexander Fraser, a bairn that actually arrived on time and with little drama, for which Jamie and Claire were immensely grateful. The summer before, Claire had received a mysterious package containing herbs and instructions, the letter was penned in such fine script that she knew immediately that it belonged to Master Raymond. She smiled widely and followed his directions exactly. She was convinced William was his doing and she was immensely grateful.

She often sat on the banks of the river close to their small house and lost herself in the gentle flow, imagining how life could have been so much different and thanking anyone she could think of that it wasn’t. Jamie would watch her from a distance and read every emotion that passed over her face. He would hold his face to the sky and close his eyes as he spoke only in his mind; “Thank ye, Lord, for showing me our path. Thank ye, Lord, for bestowing her upon me. Thank ye, Lord, for my strong bairns. Thank ye, always.”

–

Fin.


End file.
